Obsession
by ShovelChin
Summary: Closed off from the world in a mental asylum, Scott eludes forgiveness and makes it his personal goal to bring Eric Cartman misery. Short one-shot about the beginning of Scott's obsession with revenge.


**Obsession**

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"Sometimes I just-" his voice cracked, needy eyes trembling as though to portray how closed off he'd been for the past year. "...I forget that there's a _world_ past Eric Cartman. And- and when I see people from _before_, it's..." Scott Tenorman's wavering voice dwindled down to silence, and his head drooped; his voice returned, though this time, in sputtered breaths of anxiety and quiet sobs.

The room around him had not been adjusted to the needs of any patients in the past. Whereas many places such as this had been accommodated to better make them feel at home, this one was kept particularly neutral. The air was cold and dry, walls bare, save for a door, and a "please wash your hands" sign tacked just beside it (placed there for reasons Scott didn't bother to contemplate). There was a polished, wooden table centerpiece that had a chair on two opposing sides. In one of the metal chairs was seated Scott Tenorman, a mortified young man that had been sent from foster home to foster home as well as therapist to therapist time and time again.

Scott's bloodshot sclera were evidence of his most recent tears as he gazed up at the woman across from him who was marking down notes. She seemed silent and unexpressive for the most part, but _was_ quite taken back when she discovered about Scott's accidental cannibalism over his parents. Other than that she was deeply immersed into this professional poker-face that perfectly matched the building itself. She nodded as a signal for him to continue.

Scott sucked in a generous breath of air as he struggled to continue. "I was visiting them. My parents, I mean. Their graves." He glanced back up at her, eyebrows creased, mouth ever so slightly agape and fingers tugging at each other as though he were in some sort of trouble.

As though he shouldn't have been allowed to visit his own parents after having unknowingly leading them to their deaths and then _eating_ them.

She did nothing to reprimand him, so his eyes returned to the floor and he coughed. "I visited them a lot. But this time – this time was _different_, you see..." Scott's entire body convulsed for a moment, face contorting and shoulders scrunching before returning back to normal in an instant. "That little _pig_ came. With a friend, it looked like, but I didn't care about that. Eric Cartman was carrying this gift basket, and had this stupid smile on his fat little face, and he... He gave it to me and then he just walked away." Scott's face turned livid as he recalled this moment, teeth grit to expose his braces. "L-like everything would be okay if he gave me some fruit."

The woman nodded. "And then what?"

Scott Tenorman looked up at her. Her features exposed no emotion. No care for his pain and suffering, and Scott decided he hated her too. Just as he'd hated all his other doctors. The only difference is that he was _stuck_ with this one. "Then I lost it."

She blinked slowly, as though she was tired and would've rather been in bed at the moment. "You set your foster home on fire, am I correct?"

Scott's face changed drastically at this accusation. His victim-like state transitioned into a sneer of antagonism and superiority. "And now I'm in the nut-house."

His so called therapist jotted down a few more notes, before allowing two men to enter and escort Scott Tenorman back to his room. He was pushed into yet another bland room, this time with merely a bed, a dresser, and a toilet in a corner. Once there he was locked in, no form of conversation or individuality having left the two guards that had dragged him back.

Scott seethed.

"This isn't over yet, Eric Cartman." He hissed as he pulled out a binder from beneath his mattress, one that had several photographs of said fourth grader in it. He pulled out one of Eric smiling, three other boys in the background looking not nearly so amused. Scott ran his lips over the photo with a manic grin. "You're going to be _all mine_ to destroy."

Somewhere, very far away, a rather heavy fourth grader felt a strong shudder run down his spine for a reason he could not identify, and in response, he shrugged it off and got more cheesy poofs.

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**Hope you enjoyed! I am a huge fan of Scottman and would love to see more fics of them pop up.**


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